


Of Breath and Blood

by ClintFuckingBarton



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pale or Redrom I'm not sure, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Shoosh Papping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClintFuckingBarton/pseuds/ClintFuckingBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert has been missing something, since the game ended.  But maybe there's still a chance to find it...or maybe it's not what he thought he was waiting for.</p><p>((T Rating assigned for a small scuffle of a fight scene, and Karkat's language.  I'm bad at rating things.  Oh well.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Breath and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted any JohnKat on AO3.
> 
> How can this possibly be?

Hands clasped over his legs as he rested his chin against his knees. The air was cold. The ground, though, was uncharacteristically warm. Or maybe it wasn’t uncharacteristic. Maybe he was just thinking that it was.

Thoughts were jumbled and he quickly couldn’t remember which way was up, or which was down. Left, right, sideways...everything was just a mess of space and being and existence, and he was overwhelmed by the feeling that he didn’t even want to be there, that existence was not something he wanted to experience, that the world was spinning so very, very fast and there was nothing he could do to alter it’s spin or course as it slid against a vast and empty universe.

Alone, he felt so very alone.

Blue eyes surveyed the open landscape, endless and void while simultaneously so full of life. Flowers and grass and some plant life he couldn’t name. Butterflies and crickets and some bugs that were indescribable. A marriage of two universes, of two hopes, of two livelihoods. But all of the subtle movements of life were eclipsed in his mind by the complete and utter lack of air. There was no breeze today, no wind, not a single swayed flower. And the still air made him feel like he was suffocating, drowning in a solid and immobile wall of oxygen that he just couldn’t force into his lungs.

Yet he did not feel frantic. He did not gasp and try to shove blocks of unyielding air into his lungs. He just sat. Sat and stared at the field, and felt a sense of complete and utter loss. Emptiness. He knew that the others must feel it too, although he didn’t know to what extent. That Dave must go mad from the silence--the missing ticks and tocks that used to comprise his every millisecond. He saw the scars on his arms, when the blond reached up for something and his sleeves fell just a little short. And Jade cried sometimes. It must be weird to feel so small again, all of the sudden. He knew that Rose must be having a hard time adjusting, too, although she had Kanaya to ease the pain. 

It didn’t make him feel better, though, to know his friends were suffering too. It just made him feel terrible, because he hadn’t confronted Dave about those scars and cuts, yet. Because he hadn’t held Jade a single time when she broke down. Because he didn’t even know where to start with Rose. He was supposed to be their friend, and be there for them all, but instead he mostly just wandered around in a semi-catatonic state, wishing something would change. He moved in his own direction but lacked the unity to stay with any of the others, to help them with their problems, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Hello John, would you like to talk?”

It was Rose’s voice, but he couldn’t manage anything other than a forced smile. It must be that time of day, when the sun started to get lower and the other kids tried to come make sure that John was alright. Rose was always the first, and always the hardest. Always the most persistent. He was aware of her hand moving over his, of the way her fingers tightened between his knuckles, and how she asked him questions that he couldn’t answer. He just kept staring at the grass, at the flowers, waiting for them to sway. But they didn’t because all the air was gone. He wanted to answer her questions but it wasn’t the time, and after an undetermined number of minutes, she left him to his own devices.

“John...?”

Jade’s voice next, and he mustered that smile for her again. She sat with him, and even touched his arm, but she didn’t speak. He didn’t know how long she stayed. How long he sat there wanting to touch her cheeks where her tears always fell and tell her that it was all alright. She lasted maybe 15 minutes before giving up on the thought and leaving again.

Dave passed by but didn’t say a word. He mostly kept to himself, these days. It occurred to John lightly that he should call out to him, tell him that he didn’t have to punish himself for whatever it was he was still hurting over. But his voice came out as a breathless mutter, and before long his friend was gone.

It was dark, now, and he knew the air wasn’t coming. He swallowed hard and managed to move. Fluid. But he didn’t know where he was going, so he made it a few steps before he landed back into a sit. Or at least tried to sit. Because there was something holding his arm, and so he couldn’t quite get back onto the ground. The jerking motion tore his brain from his skull, forced him to be a little bit more alert. He wanted to scream and withdraw, but the thing that was holding him just wouldn’t--

“Are you awake, you useless piece of shit?”

He tugged his arm away from the troll and rubbed at his own eyes uncomfortably. It was dark, and it took a moment for him to register Karkat’s form.

“Mmm...”

“John.”

He swallowed and tried to make his body work again. That same false smile settled onto his face, and he knew he’d have to talk now. But it was so hard when he couldn’t even breathe--where would he even get the air to turn into words? If he begged enough, maybe the wind would blow and put breath back into his lungs.

“Good evening, Karkat!”

It was perky as usual, drawn from his stupor. He had to be perky and strong because that was how he wanted to be--he didn’t like himself when he got so lost in the wall of solid air. He was supposed to be everyone’s friend, not a burden that hung about like a ghost.

“Or should I say good morning?”

Most of the trolls still slept during the day, although the sun was not harsh enough to hurt them. Old habits died hard, as John well knew. He supposed that the greeting didn’t matter, though, when it came to Karkat. He knew--everyone knew--that the smallest of the trolls did not sleep.

His line of thought was disturbed by a fist colliding with his face.

Weird greeting.

John rubbed at his cheek slowly, uncertain of what he’d done exactly to deserve that. Karkat was a yeller, that was true, but he rarely got physical. At least, not that John had noticed.

“Uh...”

“Don’t look at me like you didn’t do anything to deserve that, you nooksucking bulgesniffer.”

“I just said good morn--”

A knee almost found it’s way into his groin, but John managed to back up this time, stumbling through the airless night with less grace than a drunken frat boy. He had almost regained his balance when a second punch flew through the air and connected with his shoulder, causing his feet to slip out from under him in a frenzy of uncertainty. Glasses crooked, he scrunched his face in an attempt to brace for the impact of the ground, but it never came. Instead, his arm was jerked with surprising force and he found himself stumbling on his feet again, only momentarily, before he was steadied by a sharp knee to the gut.

If he’d felt breathless before he truly felt it now.

“Defend yourself, dumbass!”

John’s hands flew out in front of himself and he shoved back on Karkat’s chest, hard, but the troll’s grip on his arm was _inhuman_ (which, really, shouldn’t have surprised him considering it literally was). He heard a sickening pop as his shoulder dislocated, and the pain sent a series of thoughts through his brain.

“John I’m-a-useless-shit Egbert, are you serious right now? I’ve seen flutterbugs with 100 times the fight in them. Are you really such a weak little grubling that you’re just going to stumble around like you’ve had one too many festive drinks and wallow in your own shitpile? Or are you going to stop me from kicking the ever loving snot out of your frail, pathetic human face?”

The nails digging into his arm were impossibly sharp--causing a warm, wet trickle of blood to work it’s way down his arm. He was still confused as to why this was happening, but those words suddenly made him pretty pissed. The resounding emptiness in his head filled up with an over ruling want to punch Karkat in the face. He was so much better than this--the fight was unfair. He hadn’t been expecting it at all. He’d just been out here, minding his own business, trying to find a little bit of air in a still and impossibly empty night. And who was Karkat to come up and punch him just for saying ‘good morning’? What the hell was his problem, anyway?

The newfound determination surged through him and he finally managed to shove Karkat off of him, sending the small troll stumbling only a few steps. John quickly closed the distance, though, swinging a fist through the air with every intention of knocking that dumb look of pity off of Karkat’s face.

His knuckles collided with Karkat’s jawbone, and he heard the faint noise of sharp teeth digging into flesh. But that look wasn’t gone. That dumb look. He wound up another punch and

dumb look of

_pity._

…?

His fist stopped just short, but the momentum from the swing caused something warm and red to splash forward from it’s rightful place on John’s arm, and land on Karkat’s cheek. The troll’s facial expression changed just slightly, and the parting of lips caused an equally red substance to trickle out--not too much. But enough. Enough that John was left gaping at the speckles of his blood and Karkat’s blood mixing together on that face full of _pity_. And then one of them sobbed.

It was John, of course.

The still night air closed in around him, impossibly solid and unbreathable. He could feel every air molecule prick against his skin, and they weighed him down. He might fall, he might fall... Was his skin bruising? He thought that it must be, crushed by the weight of such still and solid air. He couldn’t stand any longer, and he found himself spiraling downward.

This time, there was no hand to grab his arm. This time there was only grass and dirt and the sick taste of his own tears as he found his way onto the ground. It was softer than the air, and he found comfort in the pricks of little blades across his skin. He pushed his face against the grass in a feeble attempt to not seem so weak--he wanted so badly to not feel this way. But his reprieve was short lived, as he felt hands lift his face. They were softer than he would’ve expected, fingers brushing away trails of tears. His body was straightened out, the throbbing in his shoulder serving as a reminder of their little scuffle, but that was all that was left.

The anger that had run through him only moments prior was gone, and he again felt strangely hollow.

Those hands guided his head until his cheek was pressed against the warm, soft fabric of a familiar black sweater. He felt oddly guilty for crying on it, but the tears wouldn’t stop. No matter how hard he tried, he simply kept gasping for air that wouldn’t come, body trembling into this extremely unlikely embrace. “It’s okay, idiot.” He felt a thumb brush against his cheek again, trying to slow his tears, perhaps? Or maybe Karkat was just trying to minimize how much John-cry he got on himself.

“Sorry.” He was surprised at how easy it was to speak, at the fact that his words didn’t crack. He was surprised that there was any air left in his lungs, but he felt a sense of duty now. He had to apologize, because he’d hit Karkat, even if the asshole had started it.

“Shut the fuck up. First you have the audacity to give me that ridiculous fake smile that you give everyone, then you try to play the fucking chipper game, and now you’re apologizing for having frail little human emotions?”

So that was why Karkat had punched him. He knew that John was playing fake. And John had to admit, he owed them all so much more. But the others were just willing to take it--a casualty of the game, John’s happiness.

Karkat was always a little bit more forceful.

“Just calm down, you little grub.”

John swallowed back another sob at how entirely soft and quiet the troll’s voice had become. Was he really so pathetic that even Karkat needed to treat him gently? Why couldn’t he just regain all the confidence he had felt a few months prior? It was so unlike him that he wanted to hit himself--get yourself together John, and be there for your friends. Be there for anyone, even yourself. Stop moving aimlessly in whatever direction you please without worrying about the directions of others.

Find a sense of unity.

“Shoosh.”

He blinked as his world came back into focus, and he found himself acutely aware of the hand that was stroking his face, his hair. Brows furrowed over blue eyes--at some point his tears had stopped. “Karka--”

“Shhh.”

“Ka--”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t be an asshole.”

He shut the fuck up. He tried to stop being an asshole, but he wasn’t sure which aspect of assholery Karkat was talking about. The edges of the world started to seem fuzzy, and he focused instead on the grey symbol that was next to his face. 6....9. 6...6..9...9...6...6.. John’s fingers moved without him telling them to, landed on Karkat’s chest and traced the smooth curves of that mark. The troll didn’t stop petting him, and he kept on telling him to ‘shoosh’ even though John had long since gone quiet.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to fucking go.”

What were words? John looked up from Karkat’s chest and blinked a few times to process before opening his mouth. But nothing came.

“I was just going to come out and kick your ass and then leave with the hopes that it would’ve imparted some small fraction of sense to your rusted thinkpan. But here I am, soothing your stupid whatever-the-fuck-is-wrong with you.”

The blood on Karkat’s face was bothering him, and John reached up to wipe it away.

“Jade. That dumbass girl with her dumbass caring told me that I should come do something about you, said she was hoping that I could introduce a little--”

When his fingers made contact, though, a shock ran through his system.

_Unity._

He’d been ignoring his friends to pursue a direction that was leading him nowhere. He’d been blowing around in a stagnant breeze, waiting for his direction to change. But unwilling to help the others change their own direction, which in turn would’ve made him feel a million times better.

Selfish, but not purposefully so. He’d been being selfish.

He wasn’t sure if it was the revelation he’d needed, but at least it was something. And although the air was still, it didn’t feel so heavy while he was here in Karkat’s arms. There was someone else to take some of the weight.

Whatever Karkat was saying, he wasn’t actively aware of it, so he wiggled up in the troll’s grasp and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his nose into the crook of his neck. Troll skin was a little bit rougher and it scratched at his nose--but there was something sweet about the way Karkat smelled that John found unbelievably appealing. He could feel the reverberations of the other’s voice as he continued speaking, and it called to the hand that had previously been glued to the other’s chest, instead tracing upward, resting between what John could only equate to a collar bone.

“What the fuck are you even doing?”

John didn’t pull back, just grinned against the other’s skin. “Thanks, Karkat.”

“Well fuck you t--” Karkat stopped. His hand quit with those soft stroking motions--which almost spurred John to go catatonic again, just to get him to pick it back up. He was good at that. Calming people down. Who would’ve figured? “I mean, I guess you’re welcome. Someone has to make sure you pathetic little fleshy fucks don’t drive yourselves to extinction out of sheer stupidity--you’ve been doing this for days. You’re fucking fine when you’re inside, but whenever you wander out, lo and behold! There goes John right into the vat of purified hoofbeast excrement known as--”

John raised a finger and placed it over Karkat’s lips, “Shhh, man... you talk too much.” He didn’t move his head, though, just settled against the other’s neck. It seemed, though, that his attempts to shut up the troll had been fruitless as he soon felt the vibration stir again underneath his face.

“Are you snuggling me right now?”

John grinned and pressed his face further into the other’s neck with a soft hum.

“John, you fucking ignoramus, if you don’t stop cuddling me right this fucking instant I swear I will claw your eyes out and use them to replace the eyes that I’ll have to claw out of my own skull in order to regain any sense of self dignity that’s left in this--”

“Shoooosh.” The human moved his hand and stroked Karkat’s face with a small laugh, before reaching up and scratching behind his nubby horns, “Shooooosh Karkat it’s okay. Snuggles are a totally normal part of human life! You might even feel better after we--”

“--I’m the one helping you, dumbass!”

Karkat shoved his arms between the two of them and pried John off, much to the human’s dismay. In response, he pushed out his lower lip and made a little whine, leaning forward on his hands.

“Kaaarkaaaaaaat!!”

“Stop making that hideous face, it’s not attractive.”

“Kaaarkaaaaat!” He pressed forward a bit more, forcing his lip to tremble.

“I thought you weren’t a homo-whatever-the fuck.”

“I’m not! Snuggling with a dude doesn’t make you a...you know what? Never mind.”

“Mmhmmm.”

“Shut up.”

“What? I didn’t say fucking shit. Now if it wouldn’t inconvenience you and your ridiculous moping, we’ve got to go inside and knock some sense into that fucking ironic asshole next.”

John blinked a few times, and swallowed uncomfortably. There was something so tired in the way Karkat spoke. Something that said ‘I’ve been at this for weeks’. How many people had Karkat fixed, so far? While John had been busy wallowing in sel--

“Are you fucking coming?”

Blue eyes snapped upward and he was met with a scowl and an expecting hand.

He wouldn’t make Karkat do this alone anymore. He’d waiting around for the wind enough, it was time to get on with his life.

John grinned and slipped his hand into Karkat’s, pulling himself up with the arm that didn’t ache with dislocation. He’d have to bitch at someone to pop that back into place, later. But once he was up, he didn’t let go of that hand--at this point he wasn’t sure if he was doing it out of some sense of purposefully making Karkat uncomfortable, or if he legitimately wanted to hold onto the troll.

He was leaning toward the latter, though.

“If anyone asks, I kicked your ass and that’s it.” Karkat’s voice was annoyed, but soft. It almost gave away a sense of endearment, but John wouldn’t say anything. Starlight hit his glasses as he cast a sideways glance to his companion, grinning like a maniac into the darkness.

Unity achieved. Time to impose a little bit of direction.

“Sure thing, Karkat.”

As they headed inside, a slight breeze ran through both of their hair, and John chanced a small look back at the field--endless and void while simultaneously so full of life. Flowers and grass and some plant life he couldn’t name. The butterflies were long gone, but he could hear the crickets, and some chirps that were foreign to him. A marriage of two universes, of two hopes, of two livelihoods. But all of the subtle movements of life were punctuated now, stirred by the softest of winds. The air was still heavy, still uncertain, but the burden didn’t seem so great anymore.

The way their hands were clasped, he would hazard a guess at saying that Karkat felt similarly.

Two universes. Two hopes. Two leaders who had managed to comfort one another in the oddest of ways.

They had the direction and the unity.

It was time to go help out their hurting soldiers.


End file.
